might be more like Brady Jensen than I ever thought, I think with a wry smile.
I enter through the loading dock area and am awed by how different the ballpark feels when it’s empty. I dig out my map and follow the directions, winding through the off-limits area of Soaring Eagles Park and feeling special that I get to see all this behind-the-scenes stuff.
I walk for what seems like forever until I turn down the last hallway before the X is marked on my map for the clubhouse. And lo and behold, I see Elisa, a young man with a Total Access Total Sports T-shirt on and a video camera, and a beautiful young female reporter dressed in a fantastically chic pants suit. Then my favorite part: there are several staffers from our shelter with animals in carriers, ready to match them for pictures with baseball players who don’t own pets.
I check my watch. Players should be arriving in the next half-hour for the shoot.
Elisa is talking to a tall man who has his back facing me. I stop behind him, shocked at exactly how tall he is. Good Lord, he has to be at least 6’5”. Or does he seem extra tall because I’m so short? My eyes span the width of his back, which is massive, and it seems as if the fabric of his pale-blue dress shirt is straining to contain it. This man has to be a Soaring Eagle.
I allow my eyes to drop lower, and as soon as they reach his gray trousers that are hugging his butt, I nearly gasp.
Baseball butt is a legit serious thing.
A glorious, tight, sculpted, wonderful thing.
Then I realize I’m checking this man out while on the job and jerk my head up, determined to be a freaking professional, and focus on my job.
“What I was wondering,” the guy says, his voice low and deep, “is whether there is an animal I can pose with other than a dog or a cat?”
Now he has my complete attention. I’m intrigued by this and wonder why he is asking for a different pet.
Elisa crinkles her nose. I know that look. She doesn’t understand why this man is asking for a different pet.
To be honest, I don’t know, either.
“I know it’s weird, but dogs and cats are going to get a lot of attention on this shoot, and I’d like to help out an animal that needs more publicity,” he says. “I want the underdog of the shelter. That’s who I want to pose with. Animals that aren’t as easy to place or who aren’t thought of as needing homes.”
“Oh my gosh, you need a Willy!” I blurt out in excitement.
Elisa’s mouth drops open, and the man slowly turns around. I blink in total shock when I find myself looking into the eyes of Brady Jensen.
I stare up at him, with his tanned skin and brown hair that is tousled impossibly out of control, with waves as mischievous as the glint in his pale-green eyes, which regard me with a mixture of surprise and recognition.
“Would you care to tell me, Addison Blakely, how you know I need a willy?” he asks, staring down at me. A smile begins to form in the corners of his mouth, twitching, teasing, waiting to be unleashed.
And with a jolt, I realize I want to be the one to unleash it.
Chapter Two
I stand still, mesmerized by his mouth. The way his eyes are dancing at me. He folds his arms across his chest, and I notice both are inked, with tattoos starting at the wrists and disappearing under the crisp cotton fabric of his long-sleeved, pale-blue dress shirt. The fabric grows tighter around his massive biceps, straining to contain them in the same way it did across his back.
I suck in a breath. I swear, it’s like I’m seeing Brady for the very first time.
He casually lifts an eyebrow. “I’m waiting to hear about the status of my willy.”
Huh? Instinctively, I lower my gaze to his crotch, landing right below his belt buckle a—
Shit.
I jerk my head back and practically give myself whiplash in the process. Oh, my God, I stared at his crotch.
“I assure you, I don’t need a willy,” Brady says.
My face burns in mortification. “No, no, not that kind of a willy, of course. I know you have a willy. I’m talking about my Willy.”
I hear a guffaw from the videographer behind me and a few snorts from the people assembled in the corridor.
“Not that